This kid was hyped the fuck up. I remember him being the only one dancin around. reminded me of that scene in "Nick and Norah's Infinite playlist" where the little asian kid is all hype on the dance floor dolo breakdancin for that band "R U Randy" or whatever. Don't judge me. I'm a sucker for teen angst..

yeaaaaahhhh...

New fam.

Over it.

I'm about 90% sure these girls never went into the show. Just col' lampin...

This picture speaks volumes.

cool goat Anthrax guy.

If you got a beard, you're cool with me.

Thicky thickerson stage right. That was an accidental photo, but then i noticed that ol' girl was workin with some thighs but i couldn't flip it in time to peep the tail... Next time, I won't miss.

Life.

Iceberg... I think that's what he told me his name was. Peep stage left tho, homegirl's arm is livin large.

Just creeped on these cats mashin the streets with what i presume to be stolen carved pumpkins. They thought I was paparazzi, Told 'em to kick back, I was on the same team.

They put me on as an honorary star for my visit. You know what it is.

Cool cats. I tried to convince em I could bust a kickflip first try. Yeah right. By this point I had to have crushed 12 heinekens...

Walked into this bar for a piss. The bathroom was down 2 flights of stairs, when i came back up, my man was doin a serious MJ impression.

One for the money.

Quietly, this bird was kinda fly.

The rest of the pictures are cued up and loading into photobucket. If I get the inspiration to do so, I'll hit you off with another set of flicks this afternoon.

As for the rest of the night, Went to the divest bar we could find, vodka tonics and jager?? Fuck. Rolled out as the boys from Polar Bear Club were rollin in. Homie gave me the "where you goin" look, but I ain't no groupie, so we were out.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

2. After the age of 12, any physical pain you suffer shall not result in tears. I don't care if you've compound fractured your femur, suck that shit up and rub some dirt on it.

3. After you have experienced your first heartbreak, crying over a woman is a waste of valuable time that could be better spent chopping down trees and enjoying that massive beard you have grown since that bitch left.

4. It is completely acceptable to cry during the movies "Fried Green Tomatoes" and "Old Yeller".

5. When given the option to fuck or have your laundry done... Get the laundry done. If she was willing to fuck you before doing the laundry, she will be willing to fuck you after the laundry is done. That laundry ain't gonna do itself.

6. Never leave the fo' sho' pussy fo some mo' pussy.

7. With the exception of your's truly, YOU are NOT getting any better looking with age.

8. You married your high school sweetheart? Congratulations DICK. You never get to see another stitch of tail for the rest of your life.

9. Drinking on your lunch break is completely acceptable, so long as it is a light beer. Save the leaded for after work.

10. If you can't change a tire, kill yourself RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

11. There is no such thing as "the right one", there's the one you want, the one you got, the one you could never have, and the one you wished you never met. In no particular order, of course.

12. If you have won every fight you've ever been in, you haven't been in enough fights.

13. You don't pay the hooker to fuck you, you pay her to leave.

14. If the restaurant does not have a minimum of 3 DIFFERENT cuts of red meat, walk the fuck out.

15. Mother comes before all other females.

16. Happiness, for the most part, is completely fabricated. The only truly happy people in the world are the people who, in all sincerity, do not give a FUCK.

17. The number of true friends you have in this world can be measured on one hand, anything beyond that, you don't comprehend TRUE friends.

18. If you are still currently backing Obama's health care initiative, your balls are gone.

19. Respect is earned, never given.

20. Silence is golden.

21. If your girl has more guy friends than girl friends, she's cheating on you.

22. All women are sisters and would rather eat your heart than give birth to your spawn.

This day has seriously been on my mind for years now. The release of Jamal Barrow a.k.a. Shyne Po of the once infamous, now debunkt Bad Boy family. Oh you didn't hear? Combat Jack put the people up on what was really poppin' behind the scenes at Bad Boy over on his blog, Daily-Math.com. The Reader's Digest version goes like this... Diddy tried to strongarm Interscope records, frontin' like he was still top billin' for the heavy loot cakes, Interscope responded with, what now looks to me, like a straight hostile takeover and sat Diddy's punk ass down with the quickness. Bad Boy headquarters is now officially closed down, and Bad Boy records as a label, as a movement, as the epicenter for some of the most classic hip hop tracks ever created, will now be manned from a corner office at Interscope records, withOUT Diddy pullin the strings.

Wait... Seriously? Bad Boy with no Diddy? I'm gonna go on record now and say that Bad Boy will never officially release another GOLD album for the rest of it's existence. The wheels have fallen off. The dynasty is finished. Like so many before it (read: Roc-A-Fella, Death Row, Loud, etc.), Bad Boy has gone the way of the Buffalo. Has the last great piece of Hip Hop history fallen at our feet? The signs of Armageddon are real people. Let's read thru Nostradomus' works and cross reference the words Diddy/Bad Boy/End of Times, I'm sure Science can figure out a way to Blame Puff for ending the world. I mean, he did end Shyne's life...

Or did he...?

I'm not sure if it is neccessary or not to give the back story as to what happened that cold New York City night that ended with Shyne takin' the hit for the squad (like a true soldier), but I have to assume that all the minions and followers are not quite "up on shit".

The story that I believe most, (again, no one but J.Lo, Puff, Shyne, and a few other select individuals truly know what popped), is that Puff got yoked, decided to flex his bitchassness and pop a few shots at some cats to impress J.Lo, then threw the gun in Shyne's lap and said: "Do you want your record to come out? Take the heat".

Shyne, at this time was still a 21 year old goon straight out of the gutters of NY's mean streets, thuggin is in his blood, and at this time in the world of hip hop, what Puff said, was gospel.

Fast forward 3+ months, Shyne is facing 10 years for attempted murder, amongst other things. The verdict is read. Guilty.

The man who was supposed to bring Bad Boy back to the spot they so desperately sought after the loss of Biggie, is now takin' that trip up North for what, on paper, was reading as 10 full years.

Shyne goes up, and Diddy does as he promised and releases Shyne's first solo album to critical acclaim.

Pause... Some posts require some background music, and this, my dear friends, is one of them.

Press play before you move any further.

Shyne is the definition of Bad Boy. At the time of his arrest, Shyne had quite literally been, quote, unquote, "fuckin with" Puff for no more than a few months, but still sacked up and took the heat for Diddy's bitch ass to prove himself worthy of the throne that Biggie had left vacant some 2 years prior.

I'm gonna say this now and stand by it 'til the day I die, Shyne had the potential to be, excuse me for this, "That Nigga". I mean for real, for real. Shyne had it.

So now Shyne is hemmed up, troopin the bid like a loyal soldier.

The paparazzi caught Puff after the sentencing and asked him how he felt about the verdict...

Me too Puff, me fucking too.

This was all in 2000. In the years to follow, Shyne would remain silent behind the walls, never speakin out about the night in question, never givin up Puff and fingering him (no homo) as the man responsible, and how does Puff repay that debt?

naddagoodlook Puff...

The legacy that once housed the likes of Craig Mack, Black Rob, Notorious B.I.Fuckin G., The Lox, Junior Mafia, Lil Kim, etc. is now home to wack ass bullshit artists and cat-like motherfuckers like Que?

Oh hell nah Puff. Biggie is rollin in his grave every time Making The Band hits the airwaves.

Oh, and let's not forget the fact that Puff actually turned this hoe out:

(Quietly, on the low, yes I would.)

Where was I?

Oh right... Diddy is out here doin the Harlem Shuffle and building an empire all on the back and shoulders of Shyne's word as a man. It's the code of the street, it's the world I live in, "Snitches get Stitches", and Shyne never snitched. Not a word.

Let's just say, Shyne is out, and EVERY record label in the world better be offering up MILLIONS to my man.

I also firmly believe that Puffy needs to catch that realll ass whoopin' immediately. You can't pay back 10 years of someone's life, but you damn well better be comin correct with those "thanks for not snitchin" checks. I mean, I know Puff goes hard and strong arms these featherweight new-jack Making the Band types, but let me see you try that shit with Shyne Po. I'd give anything in the world to be in the building first time Shyne locks eyes with Diddy.

Don't think for one second that Shyne's rap game slacked at all, HELL NAH. If anything, my man is sharper than ever, I mean, bein locked up for 10 years with nothing but hatred in your heart and a brain full of thoughts, a man is bound and destined to produce one of the greatest albums Hip Hop has ever heard. Be checkin for that new Shyne album, whenever it drops.

Big ups to Shyne for being one of the last real soldiers in this bitch-ass infested world of hip hop.

First Time Here?

If this is your first time stopping by NickelPlatedBama, I would suggest getting a feel for the blog by going through the archives. There have been too many classic posts to count. If you disagree with an opinion here on the site, make it public. The writer of this blog suffers from a rare condition that allows him to feel absolutely zero remorse when attacking a person's character or, in most cases, lack there of. Please feel free to enjoy, hate, participate, tell a friend to tell 2 friends, but always, ALWAYS stop back here again tomorrow, as you never know what this looney bastard might say next...

Directly below this box you will find an interview with Oliver Wrist by Oliver Wrist that should serve as an FAQ. Anything else you want to know, Oliver will literally answer any and all questions you may have, so don't be shy, shoot an email to Oliver Wrist at: nickelplatedbamadotcom@gmail.com

Nickel Plated Bama: Who? What? When? Where? Why? and How?

Who writes NickelPlatedBama?

Oliver Wrist writes, edits, designs, takes photos, and publishes NickelPlatedBama personally Monday-Friday. Oliver Wrist is an alter ego that I created as a means of getting things off of my chest. Ollie is irrational and flagrant. Once boos are introduced, the hillarity ensues. Rather than feel bad, Oliver chooses to embrace his lunacy and use his shamelessness for a greater good. Oliver's travels and opinions are documented on an almost daily basis. I say almost daily because I don't work on weekends.

What is NickelPlatedBama? What is A Nickel Plated Bama?

Nickelplatedbama is a face-melting social commentary blog written from the perspective of a self absorbed asshole with no shame or morals to speak of. If you're into hip hop music, silky smooth breezys, absurdly opinionated witty banter and reading the rants of an anti-social, overly confident, self absorbed "writer" (for lack of a better word) please continue. NickelPlatedBama is a source for venting and bashing, hating and thrashing, shitting and blasting on everything from bad food to bad music and everything in between. I don't hate everything however. NickelPlatedBama and more importantly Oliver Wrist praise iconic figures such as the ever elusive white girl thickness, mid-'90's hip hop, fashion, graffiti, art, ice cold behavior, celebreality t.v., Chicago Cubs baseball, San Diego Chargers football, College Basketball, Early '90's WWF wrestling, laughing at other peoples misfortunes, and generally acting like a complete type-a sociopath.

Nickel Plated Bama is extra gutter street slang for a nickel (the precious metal) plated hand cannon. You know, a burner, a strap, a gat, a tre pound, a whistle, or for the uninitiated a gun.

When did NickelPlatedBama get started?

Oliver Wrist has been the other half of my split personality for years. It originally started as my DJ'ing name. My career as a DJ lasted only about as long as it took me to write this BIO. As it turns out, I am an awful DJ. Not because I play bad records, but because I butcher the scratches. My brother, Young Smalls, a.k.a. DJ Fuzzy Badfeet, has taken over the reigns and is now my own personal DJ. Although Smalls refuses to accept the things I have taught him since birth as doctrine, he still gets the Oliver Wrist stamp of approval as a purveyor of all things mixed well. He uses my turntables, my mixer, and my records to do his thug-thizzle, but he is a much better DJ than I could ever be, so I just give him enough shit to remain enthusiastic. Being that my foray into the DJ world went south, I decided to use writing as a tool to express myself creatively. Thus far it has proven somewhat successful. How do I know? Well, you're reading this aren't you?

Where did you come up with NickelPlatedBama?

I have spent so much of my valuable time force-feeding the readers of this blog my personal musical preferences (Read: mid-'90's new york hip hop, ign'ant pimp shit, '90's bay area movement, etc.) and blasting all these idiots that set themselves up for utter failure everytime they open their mouth, or press record on the video camera over the last few months, that I forgot to ever place the credit where the credit was due. Nickel Plated Bama is a reference to a line in a song from the 808 King himself (No not you Kanye). I'm talking about The RZA. a.k.a. Bobby Digital. a.k.a. Bobby Boulders. a.k.a. The Abbot. a.k.a. The head of the Wu-Tang dynasty. When I came up with the idea to start writing a blog, I wanted to name it something that most people wouldn't understand right out of the gate, creating a buzz as a result of the inherent curiousity of the average internet lurker. The result was a line from a Bobby Digital album where RZA says "my head is a like a Nickel Plated Bamma". I guess I should just go ahead and spell it out for you. Instead of using an obvious title such as "The Smoking Gun" (besides, it was already taken) for a blog name, I decided to get creative. So, with this blog title, I pay homage to one of my favorite, not only rappers, but creator of things, and still stay sharper than a sword with the usage of metaphor in describing the gun (my keyboard) i use to roast those i deem indesirable.

See above question titled "What is a Nickel Plated Bama".

Why?

Why not is a better question. I hate alot of shit. I want people to know that I hate aforementioned "shit". This was covered in the above section titled "Who writes Nickel Plated Bama".

How do you pronounce the "BAMA"?

It recently came to my attention while I was in the streets passing out stickers and shamelessly promoting this blog that alot of people were mispronouncing the "BAMA". I will make it very easy for you all.

Think Alabama. Don't think Obama. Are we clear now? I really hope so.

Disclaimer:

While most opinions on this site are based in fact, they are merely that, opinions. If you take this shit seriously OR anything that Oliver Wrist has to say personally, than it was definitely directed at you. If you are easily offended, read on, YOU are the target audience. And ladies, Oliver Wrist is the Asshole your mother warned you about. Oliver Wrist is extremely self absorbed and could not care less if your feelings get hurt. If you disagree with anything Oliver Wrist has to say, please make it public, so that Oliver Wrist may be able to roast you publicly.